Going Home, Encore

Last week, my sister-in-law Joyce died.

It didn't help that we knew it was coming, that the cancer eating away at her insides was going to win over her determination to keep it away.

It still hurts.

She was terrific--I loved her, primarily because she loved my brother.  She adored my parents.  She even liked me.  She is the only person I know who could consistently eat more sushi than I can, and I can eat a lot.  We made that our thing.  The last time we had sushi together was in April, and in fact, I had gone home specifically to do that with her.   It was yummy.

She once came to visit me, and we toured all around the city.  I showed her where I had moved to, and she watched my boyfriend (now my husband) and the way he was treating me, and she told me she approved.  My favorite part of that trip was 'having tea' with the Famous Five.  We were taking pictures of all the sculptures, rubbing Lester's foot and laughing, and when we saw the pictures we were quite bemused that the policemen on the hill thought we just might be up to no good, for they showed up in many of the snapshots.

I went home in April because I wanted to make sure that we had a chance to say goodbye.  I wanted to thank her for being such a great addition to our family.  I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated that she loved us all in spite of our quirky ways.    I had questions for her, things I wanted to know.  We had one or two things to work out and we took the time to do that. We talked about many things,  including the fact that she was dying.  We all are, we decided--life is, after all, a terminal condition.  We smiled a bit, toasted life itself with our sake.

She had a really great laugh.  Her smile was ready, for anyone at anytime.  I can't believe that I won't see that smile anymore.

I miss her.  I will never forget her tears at sushi, because we were talking about my brother, and how he was going to get through all this.  She knew that he needed her.  We all need her.  Things will never ever be the same.

I'll never forget her celebration of life service either.  My brother was terrific.  He was vulnerable but poised, crying but strong, tender but determined that we would all know why he loved her.  We had a few extremely precious moments to ourselves before the service that I will never forget.  There was a gigantic spray of yellow carnations on her casket.  They were, he said, for us to take home to remember her by, and so we all filed up to remove some of the blossoms.  I loved that so much.

Here's to you, Joyce Brown.  You were a heck of a gal.